Lights Out
by trufflemores
Summary: "Hold on, Blaine lit a bunch of candles." AKA that time when Blaine actually does light a bunch of candles because there's a power outage at the loft. Fluffy things ensue. Klaine. COMPLETE.


**Disclaimer**: I do not own Glee or any of its characters; Ryan Murphy and Co. hold that honor. I'm simply writing this for fun, not profit.

Blaine had been enjoying his evening in, complete with a long, hot soak in the tub and plans to catch up on his leisure reading while wearing the softest pair of pajamas he owned, when the power suddenly, inexplicably went out.

Blinking in surprise at the ceiling, waiting for the lamps and other appliances to come back on, Blaine inched off the couch and promptly cowered underneath one of the blankets as a loud crackle of thunder shook the loft. Weighing the pros and cons of getting up and trying to restore power manually, he listened to the rain pouring steadily outside, heart sinking at the thought of Kurt out there battling the elements.

As it was, the more pressing and immediate concern was the loft, plunged into near total darkness in lieu of the power outage. Paranoia rising, Blaine could almost hear an intruder tiptoeing across the floorboards, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling as he forced himself to his feet and away from the safety of his blanket cocoon.

Snatching his phone off the coffee table, he sent a quick text to Kurt before switching to flashlight mode, using the bright white light to navigate across the living room floor into the adjoining kitchen area. To his dismay, he couldn't find any flashlights. It wasn't until he opened the cabinets under the sink that he saw the white candles tucked in neat rows by the faucet, a parting gift from Sam after his romantic gesture failed to woo Mercedes.

"I didn't want to throw them away," Sam had said, somewhat embarrassed but mostly relieved as he deposited the sagging box in Blaine's arms, filled to the brim with white candles. "Maybe you can – reuse them or something?"

Blaine hadn't been able to conceive of a use for nearly six dozen candles at the time, but facing his current predicament the find seemed downright serendipitous.

Setting up three candles on the counter just above the sink cabinets, he lit the first one carefully with a match, using that candle to light the other two. Relaxing a little at the spare, warm light that they gave off, he staggered candles around the room, on the kitchen and coffee tables, across his desk in his designated workspace, bunched in three of the four corners, anywhere he could reasonably put them.

Curling up on the couch when he finished the last one, he sat back and observed his handiwork with a pleased smile, relieved that he'd managed to restore light to the apartment without needing to tinker with any technical equipment. The warm light saturated the space until, tucked in his blanket and tapping the occasional _miss you _text to Kurt, Blaine almost dozed off, blinking owlishly and sitting upright when he heard the door to the loft slide open.

Kurt paused with his coat halfway off his shoulders to take in the scene around him. As far as Blaine could see, he was soaked to the skin but otherwise unharmed, glancing inquisitively in Blaine's direction after a brief cursory look at all the candles.

"This is … very romantic," he observed, setting his coat on the rack to dry as he toed off his boots. "What inspired it?"

"The, uh." Blaine blushed at his own handiwork, aware that he may have gone a little overboard and that perhaps a handful of candles would have sufficed to keep him from existing in total darkness. "The power went out," he finished lamely, brushing an imaginary piece of lint off the blanket he'd been clutching mere moments ago. "But there is a piece of leftover strawberry cheesecake in the fridge?" he added thoughtfully.

"Throw in a dry towel and I'm yours," Kurt said as Blaine darted off to oblige, carefully blowing out candles as he went.

Soon they were tucked up in bed with only a handful of candles to illuminate the space while Kurt happily devoured the remaining piece of cheesecake, evidently unruffled by the turn of events as Blaine leaned against his side and listened to the storm slowly fading.

"No more candles," he said at last, muffled by the warm fabric of Kurt's shoulder, arms wrapped around Kurt's waist.

Kurt laughed, setting his empty plate aside and running his fingers up Blaine's arm soothingly as he echoed agreeably, "No more candles."

Eventually, like all things, the storm passed and the candles were put out.

But Kurt's love for him lingered long after the rain and smoke had cleared, a self-renewing cycle that didn't require candles or cheesecake to exist.


End file.
